


take me back

by tsaritsas



Category: Nikolai Series - Leigh Bardugo, The Grisha Trilogy - Leigh Bardugo
Genre: Angst, Angst and Feels, F/M, Heavy Angst, Sad, Sad Ending, THATS, Wedding Night, Weddings, all it is, yeah sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-13
Updated: 2021-02-13
Packaged: 2021-03-13 00:06:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29393115
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tsaritsas/pseuds/tsaritsas
Summary: Zoya is at a wedding that she would prefer not to be at.Based on Chinese Satellite by Phoebe Bridgers
Relationships: Nikolai Lantsov & Zoya Nazyalensky, Nikolai Lantsov/Zoya Nazyalensky
Kudos: 25





	take me back

Zoya had been foolish to think she could make it through tonight sober.

It was a bit funny because typically, she would have loved to be at a wedding like this. The easy environment, the food, the champagne, the way the guests put aside their differences for a night or two, allowing for two souls in love to experience what should be the greatest night of their lives. 

Which is why she felt like the biggest fucking joke of them all. Maybe if she weren’t drunk, she could be present at the moment, think about the joy of the party she’d be lost in if it were any other occasion. But she hadn’t taken into consideration the sheer shock of today; how the ceremony hit her right in the face and she had not comprehended what it might mean for her. She had an opportunity, and she blew it. Because he asked her first and she had said no. It could’ve been– _should’ve been_ –her in that dress, with her husband smiling and thanking those who were giving them congratulations. It could’ve been the best night of _their_ life. 

_I've been running around in circles  
_ _Pretending to be myself_

She knew he felt the same way she did, which should’ve given her some reassurance. But he still smiled. He was probably joking too. 

She took another glass of wine from the table beside her, not caring who it belonged to. Those people had better shots of getting through this without a drink. 

She saw Genya and David on the dance floor in an embrace, swaying along to the music. She loved them both, but right now even they seemed to sicken her. Everyone here was sickening her. The food and drinks that had come from far and wide from only the best caterers Ravka housed sickened her. The room, decorated in red and gold with string lights swaying from the ceiling, stars shining in the sky visible through the glass roof, the room that she had helped decorate the day before, sickened her. 

What sickened her most was the boy across the room, acting like everything was fine, throwing an arm around the shoulders of random diplomats like they were old friends and toasting to the new union and the new alliances that had been made. Every so often, he looked over at her, his smile faltering just a bit, as if someone had told him a bad joke that he was forced to laugh at. She wanted to punch him in the arm, yell at him about how he had made her go insane before jumping into his arms and having him never let go. 

Maybe she did have more champagne than was necessary. Yet none of her common sense was able to keep her from downing more. If she drank, she could sleep, and if she could sleep she could wake up and have this be a dream. Though the light seemed too bright for that, or maybe that was the champagne too. Was it possible to get drunk in dreams if you wanted? 

_Why would somebody do this on purpose  
_ _When they could do something else?_

She needed air, though she didn’t know if it was the stuffy room or the ache in her chest that was choking her. Standing up, however, proved to be a hardship. The hem of her navy blue dress touched the ground, taking its place just under the heel of her shoe, causing her to catch herself on the table. That was the one bad thing about being drunk; she missed being graceful. She dusted herself off, standing up again and using her chair for support as she turned around to walk toward the exit, or was it the buffet table? The room was spinning and she didn’t know which direction she was going anymore.

To her disappointment, it was that of a wall. 

Her head was already hurting, and the collision with the maroon-painted wall seemed to make it worse. Zoya stepped back a bit, rubbing the left of her forehead where the edge of the doorway had hit. She leaned back to take a look at her hand as she pulled it away. 

Great. The alcohol was already making her woozy and now she had given herself a concussion. _Maybe I should just sleep now._

And then, to her dismay, someone caught her. 

She looked in front of her to find a pair of black-clad arms under hers, threads of gold embroidery around the wrists, her head pressed uncomfortably against someone’s shoulder. 

“Don’t fall just yet, Nazyalensky, you still have a few hours to go.” 

Even in her sleep, she knew that voice. 

_Drowning out the morning birds  
_ _With the same three songs over and over_

She tried to form the thoughts in her head, to form words on her tongue, but all she did was push away from him. She whipped her head to face him, glaring as she gave him a look up and down. 

Nikolai still looked handsome as hell since the night started, but he looked even more desirable up close. And now that the party had been going on for a while, he looked just the slightest bit unkempt, a lock of honey-blond hair falling into his forehead, cheeks flushed from the wine, the first button of his crisp white shirt undone. 

He was so beautiful it took all her impulse control to keep from crying. She felt her heart begin to swell and her throat begin to go dry and she felt the sudden need to wrap herself in a blanket and hide. It felt awful. She felt awful. She hated him. Did she hate him? _Did she love him?_

“What the fuck do you want?” 

It seemed she hadn’t stopped him from noticing her current condition. He was back to her a second later, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and probably making her look weak. Why was he _always_ the one who made her weak? She wanted to shudder at how familiar this was, his arms around her as he cuddled her close, touch so soft and delicate he never had to talk for her to know he cared, even though he told her anyway. A touch she had come to crave. A lump rose to her throat as she felt his fingers graze her shoulder.

“Come on,” he said, “there’s a guest room up the stairs.” 

“But party–”

_I wish I wrote it, but I didn't so I learn the words  
_ _Hum along 'til the feeling's gone forever_

“Zoya,” he pressed his lips to her ear, “you wouldn’t wanna see yourself like this either.”

“Like what? It’s not like I wanna see anyone else here.” 

Nikolai led her out of the ballroom, steadying her as he brought her to the stairs. The light was easier in the corridors, coming from just a few lanterns along the sides. Her headache started to ease as she got the stairs. She wished nothing more than for him to go away, back to the ballroom to his friends and his wife, to the celebration meant for him and his happiness. But Saints, she was tired. 

She was _so_ tired. 

She fell onto the landing halfway up the staircase, leaning her back to the wall and leaving him at last. She wished for him to leave, more than anything in the world. If she didn’t have to see him maybe she could have some peace after a while. The aches in her neck from sleeping on the stairs would be worth it. 

Instead, he took his place beside her, tilting his head back and exhaling for what looked like the first time in years. He closed his eyes, the lantern light laying a halo over his hair and lashes that fanned his cheeks. 

She looked straight ahead, failing to focus on the far wall. “Why are you here?”

He shrugged. “It’s my wedding, darling. It’s rude of me to not show.”

“No, your Idiocy” her voice sounded weaker than she liked, “I meant–”

“This corridor with you?” He nudged her shoulder. “Wouldn’t let you lose it out here alone without my presence to keep you sane.”

At this point, she was too far gone to tell him he was wrong. Or right. Was there still a distinction? She wracked her brain for reasons that proved one or the other; her thoughts seemed to be barren for a way to confirm. 

“Besides,” he continued, “I wanted a break.” 

_Took a tour to see the stars  
_ _But they weren't out tonight  
_ _So I wished hard on a Chinese satellite_

_Please._ She scoffed and pulled away from him, rolling her eyes. “Break from what?” 

He pondered in silence, and she sensed him shaking even though he didn’t seem to know himself. “Everything.” 

He didn’t have anything to be upset about. Saints, it was his wedding. If he didn’t like the girl, at least he liked gifts and the attention. Worst case scenario, the one thing he liked would be the food. 

“Oh,” she rolled her eyes, turning to face him, volume in her voice rising, “like the congratulations and the decoration and the alliances and all the benefits for Ravka and the music and cake. It’s a wedding and you’re acting like it’s the worst thing that’s ever happened to you.” _It’s pretty horrible for me._

“Zoya, you have no reason to be mad. This day hurt me just as much as it hurt you!”

“Well then why did you trick me?!” She yelled, feeling the tears start to stream down her face. “You tricked me,” she said, voice so faint that it was almost lost to the sound from the ballroom. She saw Nikolai’s eyes widen out of the corner of her eye, and she brought her knees to her chest and leaned against the wall once more, shivering despite the warmth housed in her chest. 

He kept his eyes trained on his hands, his voice barely audible. “How would I have tricked you?” 

So he had the luxury of being oblivious. “Into thinking it was all going to be okay.” She wrapped her arms around her legs. “That this wedding wasn’t ever happening, at least not with her. That we could figure something out before it came to this.” 

_I want to believe  
_ _Instead I look at the sky and I feel nothing_

He swallowed, placing a hand on her arm, running a finger back and forth in soothing patterns. “I never meant to trick you,” he avoided her eyes, “no more than I tricked myself.” 

The conversation went still, the atmosphere filling with tense silence that she wished had been reserved for other people, all the sound in the hall coming from the entrance to the ballroom. Nostalgia filled her as she remembered when it had been easy for them to make small talk, sit in a room together and talk about nothing when nothing significant had happened. 

If only they were insignificant. 

“You get used to it,” he murmured, “after a while.” 

Zoya’s voice came out small when she spoke. “Used to what?” 

He moved his arm back to her shoulders as she heard him give a light chuckle. “Appearing optimistic even when everything falls apart.” 

_You know I hate to be alone  
_ _I want to be wrong_

Her eyes started to water without warning, her cheeks beginning to rush red with alcohol and confusion and heartbreak. Saints, this was supposed to be easy. She had let people go all the time, regardless of what they felt. This wasn’t supposed to happen. People needed reasons to cry, and yet, her tears flowed without care. 

She rubbed her eyes with her hands, wiping the tears from her cheeks as she felt her head fall into his shoulder. She smiled, trying to keep her eyes focused on the wall in front of her. Zoya could almost feel the blankets around them, her head on his chest as she clung to him, falling asleep to the beat of his heart as he spoke about the future for them that he fantasized, the one that was impossible from the start. She smirked. “Maybe you could gimme lessons.” 

He planted a kiss on her temple; she let her eyelashes fall closed to the touch of his lips. “I would never do that to you,” he whispered, pulling her closer as if to protect her from whatever came their way, whatever had already hurt them.

Too late. 

“I’m already broken,” she mused, burying her face in his neck as tears ran down her cheek, “what harm could it do?”

_Sometimes when I can't sleep  
_ _It's just a matter of time before I'm hearing things_

Nikolai moved his other hand into her jaw, tilting her chin so their eyes met when she looked up at him. “My lovely Zoya, you were never broken,” he told her, keeping his voice low, “just battered and bruised.” He kissed her forehead. “But never broken. Although if you were, I’d love you just the same.”

But was he still allowed to love her now, anyway?

They couldn’t do this anymore. He was married. Saints, they were at his damn _wedding_ . Why was she here? Why was _he_ here? How did any of them end up here at all? It wasn’t allowed before. It was not allowed now. She pushed away from him, feeling an abrupt cold was over her, contrasting the warmth she had felt from the champagne. 

Back to reality, they went. There was no use in imagining a future that was never going to take place. The rest was already too painful.

“Nikolai,” she mustered all the steel she had, “go back to the party.” She pushed away, wrapping her arms around herself and looking down at the carpet so he would no longer see her cry.

“Zoya–” he reached for her arm. She felt his finger brush her wrist, and it took too much control to not run into him. 

“I said go!” She repeated with her teeth clenched. 

“Zoya, please–”

“Go!” She yelled, squeezing her eyes shut as she heard his footsteps tread back towards the ballroom. _Please,_ she begged her thoughts, _don’t let me remember this tomorrow._ She already felt her lungs being ripped out to remember her head in her hands as he left for the final time.

_Swore I could feel you through the walls  
_ _But that's impossible_

His absence had already left a hole in her that she couldn’t fill; all she wished was that he didn’t feel the same. 

**Author's Note:**

> this is for valentines day, which says a lot abt me ig. eye bleach is here 🧴


End file.
